


I'd Pick You (and Your Little Dog, Too)

by caitlinrose923



Series: Little Dog 'Verse [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Captain Swan Pupstravaganza (Once Upon a Time), DOGS!!!!!!!!!, Dogs, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-12-21 04:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21069221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitlinrose923/pseuds/caitlinrose923
Summary: According to everyone in the known universe, Emma Nolan's dog is supposed to lead her to her soulmate. But she's not even sure if shewantsthat. Soulmates are pretty idealistic, don't you think?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHH I can't believe I'm finally posting this beast!!! I started this story almost two years ago, in hopes of posting it for the Captain Swan Big Bang, but it got stalled and I couldn't get it going again. But when the [Captain Swan Pupstravaganza](https://cspupstravaganza.tumblr.com/) was announced, I knew I had to try!
> 
> A huge thank you to the **multiple** betas who kept me sane, reminded me that I'm awesome, and fixed all my continuity errors and grammar mistakes. So much love for [Leanne](https://sherlockianwhovian.tumblr.com/), [Kaitlin](https://lassluna.tumblr.com/), and [Kiera](https://kieravanrenvie.tumblr.com/).
> 
> So, without further ado, I present a SOULMATE AU ABOUT DOGS!!!! (Can you believe people encouraged this idea? Me neither)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pounding of Emma’s heart matched her footsteps as she ran through the woods on the edge of Storybrooke. She did her best to ignore the pain in her back that her bookbag was causing her, slamming against her tailbone. She forced all thoughts out of her head, pointedly ignoring the bruise clearly forming above her jeans..

She just ran.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She felt it faintly, but she ignored it. A nagging feeling in her belly threatened to stop her in her tracks: she hated to make her brother worry.

But he’d be better off without her.

David was the golden child, a straight-A student and a natural athlete. He’d been their parents’ pride and joy, while Emma had been a troublemaker and a disappointment. She’d done well as a child, her competitive nature causing her to pit herself against her twin brother in every conceivable way. They were equals in many ways, though Emma’s true strength was in literature while David had understood long division a full two years before she’d begun to grasp the concept. But somewhere along the way, she’d started losing their imaginary competitions. She suddenly had to _try_ to ace all of her tests, while everything still seemed to come easily to David. 

She’d been a sore loser.

So instead of trying and disappointing her parents - and herself - she’d given up. Stopped going to class and started hanging out with the stoners by the football field. She’d lost track of the days and weeks.

And then her parents had died.

It was a car accident, it could have happened to anyone. But while David flourished in his grief, planning the funeral and contacting family members and even arranging hotel stays, Emma had only fallen further down the hole she’d dug herself.

And then the funeral came. One week after the accident, Nolans and Swans, humans and canines, from near and far had descended upon their home and Emma had hidden in her room, while David remained the center of attention. 

She ventured halfway down the stairs during the small gathering after the service when she heard someone talking to David. She sat, eavesdropping.

“Oh I just know your parents were so proud of you, David. Your mother told me just last week about how you were running for class president, right? I can’t imagine you’ll still run. Oh you _are_? Yes, it _is_ what they would have wanted. Where’s your sister? Still skipping class every day? Your mother was very worried about her, you know.” Great Aunt Ingrid lowered her voice. “Is it true they were out looking for her when they got into the accident?”

It wasn’t. Emma heard David’s firm _No_ from her spot on the stairs, but the damage had already been done.

She packed a bag, only the essentials, and ran out the back door.

She reached the docks and stood, staring out on the water, unsure of what to do next. Her stupid phone kept buzzing in her pocket and she finally ripped it out, staring at the screen.

_32 New Text Messages 15 Missed Calls_

_8 Voice Messages_

All from David.

Shit.

**D: Emma, where did you go?**

**D: I heard you on the stairs when I was talking to Aunt Ingrid. D: Where’s your necklace from Mom? I saw it on the nightstand this morning.**

**D: Did you run away?**

**D: Emma, please answer me. D: Emma, I can’t do this alone.**

The last one finally got her.

She sighed, upset with herself for getting so carried away, for being so selfish. She was so embarrassed now, with the adrenaline leaving her system, and so tired.

**E: Let me know when everyone’s gone.**

It took three hours before she finally got the text.

**D: Come home, Emma. Please.**

She’d expected David to yell at her, to tell her how much he’d worried and to blame her for causing him more stress.

He just hugged her, cradling the back of her head in his right hand.

It was the first time his armor had come down. The first time Emma had realized that maybe, just _maybe_, her brother wasn’t handling this as well as she’d suspected. She thought about all the planning he’d done for the funeral and realized, apparently too late, that he’d probably been trying to avoid thinking about what had happened; trying to avoid thinking about the fact that their parents were gone, and they weren’t coming back.

“You can’t leave me like that, Emma. It’s just you and me now.”

She nodded against his shoulder.

“Just you and me.”

\-------------

_Four Years Later_

“You’re… you’re moving out?” Emma asked, hoping her brother wouldn’t notice the slight crack in her voice at the end of the question.

“Just down the street,” David assured her. “It’s just… Emma, it’s time. We’ve been together for a while, it’s the next logical step.”

Emma loved her brother, and she was _so happy_ that he was in love, but she just really didn’t want things to change. They were barely eighteen, had just gotten their own place together (Granny’s Inn had been nice, if a bit cramped, and this was an actual _adult_ apartment) a year ago, and now… it was already ending?

She sniffed once and nodded.

“Okay,” she said.

“Emma, we can talk about this. I know it’s a lot…” David tried to catch her eye but she looked away.

“Nothing to talk about. I’m sure you and Kathryn are meant to be.”

\--

A week later, Emma was helping David move into his fancy new one-bedroom apartment with its in-unit laundry and brand new appliances. She didn’t want to help, didn’t want to move things along any more quickly than they were already moving. But David was still her brother, and she _did_ want to spend as much time with him as possible.

So she was helping.

They were driving in David’s truck on their last trip of the day when a small brown and white pitbull suddenly ran into the middle of the road. David swerved and missed her, barely coming to a stop before hitting a tree.

“What the hell was that?” Emma checked herself for any injuries but she didn’t feel anything out of place. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” David answered, but he sounded far away, like he was only half listening. Emma turned towards him and found him staring directly at the pitbull, who was still standing directly in the middle of the street as though she hadn’t just been nearly run over by a pickup truck. The dog was staring right back at David.

And then she ran.

David scrambled out of the car to chase after her and Emma followed as soon as her brain caught up to what was going on: this was David’s dog.

Emma had long since given up on finding her own dog, and her brother claimed he had as well. They’d made it this far without them, and David had a perfectly fine love life, soulmate or otherwise, so what did it matter? But Emma knew, despite the fact that he’d stopped talking to her about it ages ago, that David still hoped for a dog one day. Was her brother a hopeless romantic or total sap? It depended on Emma’s mood.

Dogs appeared in your life as if they’d been there all along, and they essentially became a fifth limb, always attached to you, an extension of your arm. There were rumors that long ago, long before Emma was born, dogs were just pets like cats or lizards or birds, and that their lifespan was much shorter. There were some stories, even, about people who couldn’t own dogs because they’d developed an allergy, which had never even make sense to Emma, who happened to be allergic to cats. 

At any rate, it was hard for Emma to believe that there had ever been a time when dogs weren’t commonplace, when you needed permission to bring them to restaurants or stores or coffee shops. Perhaps those were just stories that had been passed down for so long that they’d lost any element of the truth.

The fact of the matter was that humans depended on dogs so much, even back then, that evolution (or magic or fate or whatever explanation you chose to believe) took over. Emma had only known a life that included seeing dogs at every turn. Their lifespans matched their human’s, and they served a much more important purpose than other animals in the world.

Dogs appeared in someone’s life when it was time. There was no other explanation, and it wasn’t something easily researchable. So people just walked along, dog-less, until they finally came across a dog on a walk, or they appeared at the person’s door, or they just came together in some other way. Everyone’s story was different, but the end result was the same: the dog chose the human. There were no loose dogs running around, so if you came across one, it was meant to be yours.

Emma followed David as he chased the dog into the woods just beside the road. It wasn’t a long run, but it was confusing (all the trees looked the same) and sweaty (Maine in the middle of August will do that). But finally, David’s dog led them to… another dog.

The other dog was also a pitbull, but he was bigger than the female who’d led them here. He was all black, save for a small white stripe down the center of his chest. 

He was beautiful.

He was also trapped.

He didn’t make any noise, clearly not wanting to draw any attention to the trouble he was in. His front left leg was stuck under a pile of rocks. It looked like maybe he’d been digging a hole and the rocks had fallen on him, but Emma couldn’t be sure. 

“Emma,” David whispered, bringing her back to the situation at hand. “These dogs are… they have to be…”

“David, not now. He’s stuck. Help me get him loose.”

The two of them moved rock after rock until finally the dog’s limb was freed. But Emma could see it was too late. He tried to move it, but he couldn’t put any weight on the leg. He looked at Emma, and he finally let out one long, low whine.

“We’ve gotta get him to the vet,” Emma said, scooping him up in her arms. He was heavier than she’d anticipated, and the walk back out of the woods wasn’t easy, but they made it to the truck - all four of them - in one piece.

While there were certainly vets in town with more experience than Ruby Lucas, there was no one the Nolans trusted more than the Lucas women. Ruby’s grandmother had taken them in after their parents’ accident, allowing the twins to stay together in their hometown. Ruby was already grown up and out of the house by the time the Nolans had moved in at fourteen, but she’d still become a pseudo-sibling. She’d gotten David his first job, cleaning kennels at the clinic, and there was no doubt that she was the person they’d be taking their dogs to for the rest of their lives.

“It’s probably best to amputate. There’s not much we can do for it, and he’ll be much more comfortable without dragging it around.”

Emma was surprised at the pang she felt in her chest.

“He’ll um… he’ll be okay, though? After?” Emma asked, and David reached over and put a calming hand on her shoulder. The other dog sat at his feet, poised and beautiful. Ready for anything.

“Yes, Emma.” Ruby smiled gently. “Is he… he’s yours then?”

“I guess so,” Emma breathed. “I didn’t… I don’t… We just found them.” She motioned between both dogs.

“That’s how it goes,” Ruby said with a smile. Her own dog, Toto, lingered in the back of the room, calmly watching her owner care for Emma’s new charge. Emma watched Toto for a moment, wondering at the connection that must be present between canine and human, before her attention returned quickly to the dog in front of her, staring up at her meaningfully.

“Okay, then let’s do it.”

Emma brought Rascal home a week later. The missing limb didn’t seem to bother him, and he was absolutely incredible. He seemed to know her habits already, waking up with her (or jumping on her when she overslept, which was more often than not), waiting patiently for head scratches and treats instead of begging, and he even slept right on top of her freezing cold feet at night.

It helped having him around when she missed David, and Emma couldn’t help but wonder if the fates (or whoever controlled this whole dog thing) had put Rascal in her path right when she needed him most: right when she was about to be alone for the first time.

Of course, David’s dog was not a fan of Kathryn. He’d named the dog Princess, because of her graceful, even regal, way of entering a room, but the truth was that she was just as playful and messy as Rascal. And Kathryn kept a clean house, one that didn’t include dirty pawprints on the couch from playing outside. 

It took a while for reality to set in. Kathryn had found a dog, too, and named him Dodger. And while Dodger was athletic and handsome like David believed himself to be, he was also either too dumb or too stubborn, refusing to listen to anyone but Kathryn. And even that was iffy. David and Kathryn tried to keep the romance alive, but soon they began fighting over small things, like David leaving dirty dishes in the sink or the proper way to hang the toilet paper roll. Princess didn’t seem to like Kathryn, which didn’t help matters, and Dodger was completely indifferent towards David. 

Over time, the small fights evolved into larger ones, and they realized they simply weren’t happy together. It became obvious that soulmates were soulmates for a reason, and they just weren’t _it_.

In David’s absence, Emma had even ventured down the dark path of romance and come out the other side just a little more broken than she already was.

When it was all over and David was moved back in, he pulled Emma into a hug, and they promised each other again the same thing they had at fourteen.

“It’s just you and me, David.”

“Just you and me.”

A low whine and a short growl sounded by their feet.

Emma sighed.

“Okay, just _all four of us_, then. Sheesh.”


	2. Chapter One

There is a good chance that Rascal is going to break Emma Nolan’s neck one of these days. She loves her dog dearly, but he isn’t easy to walk on a crowded street. Even down a limb, he still barrels down the sidewalk, always on a mission, pulling Emma this way and that. Most of the time, somehow or another, it turns out that he’s gotten her away from some accident or pulled her towards the exact food she’s been craving.

One time, she’d been distracted, looking down at her phone, and a car had run straight through a red light while she was in the crosswalk. Rascal yanked her across the street so hard, she’d nearly fallen flat on her face. But she couldn’t be mad at him, because he’d quite literally saved her life. A little shoulder soreness from the pulling sure beat being flattened in the middle of an intersection.

“You really should have more control over your dog, you know.” A strange man is wrinkling up his nose at Emma as Rascal drags her down the sidewalk. It’s odd enough that the man has an unfamiliar face in a small town like Storybrooke, where Emma’s lived for her entire life, but the judgement apparent on his face just rubs her the wrong way. She doesn’t respond as Rascal leads her directly to the door of her favorite coffee shop. It’s been a long week, and Rascal knows it, so he knows this is what she needs this morning. Emma returns her attention to the man, unsure why he feels the need to comment on her dog owning skills. Catching her eye, he continues speaking to her. “They’re very important creatures in our lives. It would be a shame if something happened before he could fulfill his duty.” The man turns and walks away, and Emma notices that he doesn’t even have a dog of his own.

She knows he’s right, of course. Her dog is _supposed_ to somehow lead her not only into coffee shops and out of trouble, but also directly into the arms of her soulmate. If she’s even got one.

At 28, most of her friends have already been paired off. Ruby’s tiny little Cairn terrier, Toto, got her leash tangled up with Dorothy’s oversized Siberian Husky, Wolf, when they were only twenty. Ashley’s white Labrador Retriever, Tommy, had brought home her neighbor’s Yorkie as if they were on a play date – Sean wasn’t happy about it until he’d seen who owned the lab who’d stolen his dog, Boots. Even Will Scarlet’s beautiful little cocker spaniel, Lady, had somehow led him straight to Belle and her mess of a mutt, Tramp.

Emma and her brother, David, are the only ones left out of their friends without soulmates. It’s absurd. The whole thing is, really. Dogs are too good and pure to be used just as tools to find your soulmate. 

Emma doesn’t know if she even buys into the whole soulmate thing. The idea that a dog chooses you, fine, but that it then leads you to another human just seems so…idealistic. Like maybe people just love their dogs so much that they want to find people just like them, and the soulmate thing is just an excuse.

She’s tried to make this argument before, but David has always shut her down. He’s an optimistic fool who is the very definition of hopeless romantic. His soulmate’s dog probably sleeps beside its human in bed every night, snuggled up for warmth and safety.

Emma does let herself wonder, occasionally, what her soulmate’s dog is like. She wonders if the dog runs away often, or is afraid of small spaces like she is. She wonders if her soulmate lives across the world in Europe or something and that’s why it’s taking so long to find them.

She wanders into the coffee shop, looking around at all of the human-canine pairs lounging about on couches and sipping drinks at the counter. There are hitches for dog leashes throughout the shop, but most people choose to keep them in-hand, their dogs as much a part of them as their hands or arms or legs. The shop, like most, gives out a small plastic container of water to each customer for their canine counterparts, and some people have taken to labeling the makeshift bowls the way their cups are labeled by the baristas. Emma sees a lot of ‘Charlies’ and ‘Stellas’ on these bowls, but so far, hers is the only Rascal.

Sometimes, she watches Rascal when they enter a building full of dogs, just to see if he’ll lead her to someone special. So far, he never has. Today is no different, and she approaches the counter as she shakes the idea from her head, ordering a latte for herself and a black coffee for David.

They hand her a plastic container and she leaves it unlabeled, truthfully wishing she could leave her own cup unmarked as well. It’s a small thing, but she always feels as though everyone stares at her when the baristas call out her name, particularly when it’s spelled, and therefore pronounced, incorrectly.

The amount of times she’s been called ‘Enya’ is far higher than it has any right to be.

She places the container on the ground so Rascal can have a drink while they wait, and then tosses the empty bowl into the recycling bin when he’s done.

“Irma?” the barista calls out, and Emma turns red as she grabs the two cups from her and nearly runs out the door, Rascal the one struggling to keep up for once.

She heads to the station to start her shift. The nice thing about being the sheriff of Storybrooke is that it’s a sleepy little town, which makes her job extremely easy. Plus, her twin brother is her deputy. All in all, there are worse life choices she could have made.

A shudder goes down her spine as her ex, Neal, pops into her mind, but she ignores it and forces his smug face out of her mind. No sense thinking about the life she could have had on the other side of the law, now that she’s quite happy enforcing it. Rascal senses her sudden discomfort and stops walking, staring at her for assurance that she’s okay.

“I’m good, bud. Just thinking about you-know-who.” Emma nods once, balancing the two cups in the palm of her hand - a skill leftover from her waitressing days - and leans down to pet him briefly before continuing on their way. Rascal never liked Neal – and that should have been Emma’s first and biggest red flag, really – and he still growls at the mere mention of the man’s name.

When Emma arrives at the station, David sees her struggling with the door and runs over to open it for her, giving Rascal a head scratch while he’s at it. Once his collar and leash are unclipped, Rascal runs ahead of Emma and joins Princess in what has become their designated corner of the station. They circle each other for a moment, sniffing each other with happy, wagging tails, before settling in together on their extra-large dog bed. David takes his coffee from Emma’s hand with a thank you and a kiss to her cheek, and then fills her in on the day thus far.

“Leroy had a few too many at the Rabbit Hole last night, so he slept it off in a cell but was good to go about an hour ago. Regina called, claiming she needed extra security for the town hall meeting next week.” David glances at Emma quickly and they both burst into laughter.

The last time the mayor had a town hall meeting, it had been when Emma was up for election as sheriff. People had filed in endlessly, filling the room to the brim, to support their favorite deputy. Regina had nominated one of her pawns, a man named Sidney Glass who ran the local gossip paper, and the entire town rallied against it.

But the police hadn’t been prepared for such a turnout, and there’d nearly been several fights and they’d narrowly avoided a small fire. At least three pieces of artwork had been somehow spoiled – a rip here, a small dent in the frame there, and one barely noticeable piece of graffiti in the corner of Mayor Mills’ portrait.

It’s really no surprise that Regina wants additional security for this meeting. Although Emma doubts as many people will be showing up to vote on whether to use the abandoned plot of land in the center of town for a new library or a playground.

“Do you think it’s weird that some people don’t have soulmates?” David asks her suddenly.

Emma looks at him and tilts her head, unsure of where his question has come from or where it’s leading. She sips her latte while she thinks of how to answer.

Her brother is, after all, a hopeless romantic who’s been holding out nearly his entire adult life for someone he’s introduced to by way of Princess. It was difficult for him to go through his entire adolescence without a dog at all, and when they were kids, he had asked Emma almost daily if she thought it meant there was no one out there for either of them.

“No, David, I think it just means... maybe we’re not ready to meet them yet,” she had told him once when they were in high school. He had nodded his head and seemed to accept her answer. At any rate, he’d stopped asking, finally, and they found Rascal and Princess by the end of the following summer, right after their 18th birthdays.

She thinks about this moment, about how he’d stopped asking her questions, and what it means that he’s bringing up the topic of dog-less humans again now, more than ten years later.

“No, I don’t. I think people can find someone to fall in love with, even if fate didn’t choose that person for them. You fell in love with Kathryn,” Emma points out in the present moment, hoping David won’t notice that she’s conveniently forgetting her own former love story. Princess raises her head at David’s ex-girlfriend’s name and lets out a surprisingly human-like sigh.

“Right, but then I found Princess and she found Dodger, and we realized soon after that we weren’t meant to be. What about people who never get dogs at all?”

Emma raises an eyebrow.

“I saw a guy today who didn’t have a dog. He was really bitter and told me I needed to have better control over Rascal.” She rolls her eyes. “But I’m sure not _everyone_ without a soulmate is like that. There’s enough of them out there that they’re bound to find their way together some way or another.”

“Or they end up alone, watching the rest of us get our happy endings.” David is staring into space now, absentmindedly chewing on the end of a pen.

“Where is this coming from?” Emma finally asks.

“I saw a woman yesterday,” he begins, and Emma’s eyes nearly roll right out of her head. “She was absolutely beautiful and had the most radiant smile. I had just finished up my talk with the sixth graders on peer pressure and drugs and all that, and she was walking towards me when I was leaving. I think she’s a teacher, but I’ve never seen her before.” A smile is forming on David’s face and Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen him look like this. When he met Kathryn, she was simply pretty and nice, and seemed to be as lonely and romantic as he was. It was logical and it was easy. The look on David’s face makes Emma think that this might not be quite so cut and dry.

“And she didn’t have a dog?” Emma guesses, and David is brought back down to earth. He pulls the pen from his mouth and meets her eyes.

“Nope,” he admits, with a shake of his head. “So we can’t be soulmates, right? Because I have Princess and she doesn’t have a dog at all.”

“That’s what they say,” Emma shrugs. The whole thing is silly to Emma. Because yes, sometimes dogs lead you to your soulmate, but the randomness of it all, the fact that there’s no age, and no definitive way that your dogs lead you together, just seems plain old unfair. Besides, Emma’s pretty certain that she doesn’t even _have_ a soulmate, that she doesn’t really need one, but she’s still got Rascal. So maybe she and David are just different somehow. Maybe she doesn’t have a soulmate but she has a dog, and maybe David’s got a soulmate who doesn’t have one at all. Truthfully, Emma wishes David would just forget about this woman and move on. The hopeful look in his eyes, especially over a woman he’s just met, breaks her heart because she can’t stand the thought of him being heartbroken all over again. But she knows, deep in her heart, what he wants her to say. And so, because she’s the _worst_ sister in the world, she says it. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk to her. Maybe she just hasn’t gotten matched yet.”

David looks a bit hopeful at her last statement, and Emma can see the wheels turning in his head as he wonders if it’s worth the risk – meeting someone and falling for them again, only to have fate tear them apart. She’s not sure if her brother can take a heartbreak like that again.

Emma certainly can’t. Not for either of them.

They settle into a companionable silence, each of them lost in their own separate thoughts, when the phone rings.

“Hello, Storybrooke Police,” David answers casually. His brows furrow as he listens. “Yes. Yes. Okay, please stay calm, we’ll be right there. Thank you.” He stands as he hangs up the phone. “There’s two dogs running around the park off of Main Street. They don’t have tags or collars and they won’t let anyone near them. There are apparently no owners in sight, and no one saw where they came from.”

Throughout Emma’s life, she’s seen a few people without dogs. Some of them are older, some of them young and still hopeful for a match. They all tell themselves different stories about why they’ve never been matched. They aren’t common, but as Emma told David, there are enough of them that it’s not necessarily _strange_.

But in all of Emma’s 28 years on this earth, aside from the day that she herself found Rascal, she’s never seen a loose dog without a human.


	3. Chapter Two

Within minutes of receiving the call, David and Emma hop in the official Storybrooke Police vehicle and make their way to the park, Rascal and Princess taking up residence in their assigned seats in the back of the SUV. It’s really a good thing that there’s hardly any arrests in Storybrooke, or they’d never be able to share the car. There are a few part-time deputies who fill in here and there, but mostly it’s just the Nolan siblings running the town.

“So the caller said these dogs aren’t letting anyone near them?” Emma asks as they drive. “Did she say if they were growling or trying to bite?”

“I think they’re just too fast, playing ‘catch me if you can.’” David tells her.

They park across the street from the large group that’s now formed near where the loose dogs must be. Most of the canine companions are sitting calmly, watching the display, but some of the more rowdy ones are barking or pulling on their leashes, trying to play or get a hold of the dogs without owners.

Emma glances at some of the less well-behaved dogs and lets herself feel a moment of pity for their owners, because those must be some loud, rowdy soulmates.

“Emma! David! Over here!” They look towards the voice and find Granny, Ruby’s grandmother and the owner of Granny’s Diner and the inn down the street. After their parents' deaths when Emma and David were fourteen, it had been Granny who’d taken them in, allowing them to stay together and finish out high school in Storybrooke.

Granny doesn’t have a dog of her own, and the rumors are endless when it comes to the reason why. Some people say she had one, but she let it loose or gave it away to someone else, not wanting to know who her soulmate was. Others say she was never matched with a dog, but fell in love anyway – otherwise, how would she have had Ruby’s mother? The most vicious rumor Emma had heard was that Granny stole someone else’s soulmate away, and that’s why she was never matched with a dog.

It’s all ridiculous. Granny runs the diner and feeds nearly the entire town – human and canine alike – so whoever started any of those rumors is just thankless and mean. Plus, most of the stories don’t even make any logical sense.

Emma and David run to meet her, Rascal and Princess right behind them. Granny gives each of the dogs a treat from her seemingly bottomless pockets, then turns to the sheriff and her deputy.

“There are two loose dogs here,” she tells them.

“Yeah, that’s… why we’re here. We got a call.” David looks around and then calls out, “Attention! Storybrooke Police! Please clear the area!”

The crowd parts like the Red Sea, allowing David and Emma to walk toward the main area of the park. There are two golden retrievers sitting calmly on the other side, right next to the lake.

“They haven’t let anyone near them,” Doctor Whale whispers to Emma, far too close to her for comfort. “The bigger one thinks it’s a game and runs away whenever we get close. The small one nearly took Mr. Gold’s hand off.”

“He probably deserved it,” Emma mumbles, earning a small chuckle from Whale. “Either way, we’ll take care of it.”

Emma and David look at each other and instantly Emma knows David’s plan. They split up, Emma to the right, David to the left. Princess creeps along beside her owner, crouching down to keep her impact on the ground minimal, while Rascal hobbles along behind Emma, careful not to get under her feet.

The two goldens sit completely still as Emma and David inch closer to them. Emma thinks they might actually have a chance at catching them without much difficulty when suddenly Rascal bursts forward and tackles the smaller golden. Emma is shocked – Rascal rarely shows any interest in other dogs – and nearly yells his name, but it’s stuck in her throat. He isn’t trying to hurt the golden. He’s trying to play with her.

Emma turns to David, who looks just as shocked as she feels, just in time to see Princess tilt her head. She gallops past David to see what Rascal is getting himself into. After realizing that there’s no room in this play session, she goes to see what the other golden retriever is up to. So far, he hasn’t moved. He’s sitting and watching everyone watch him, looking proud somehow. Emma’s pretty sure he’s smiling. Princess sits in front of him and they stare at each other for a moment.

And then Princess does something distinctly not Princess-like: she reaches up with one paw and bats the other dog on the head. The golden merely tilts his head at her, then jumps up and pins her down. Princess lets out a growl and flips the other dog over, surprising him.

David finally finds his voice and laughs before shouting a command at Princess. 

“Stay!”

Princess shakes her head once and stays put, allowing David to approach the two dogs. Emma sees him realize that he doesn’t have a leash with him. Princess and Rascal generally don’t wear them at the station, and they’d been in such a rush when they left that they’d both forgotten.

Shit.

Emma watches as David struggles with where to go from here. She’s still poised, ready to follow his lead, but they’re both at a loss for what to do next. Rascal stops playing and looks towards Emma for some sort of guidance.

“Come, Rascal,” she says. And he does, with the small golden retriever following closely behind him. Princess follows suit, and sure enough, so does her playmate. The four dogs lead Emma and David back to their police car with a very confused crowd staring after them.

“What the hell just happened?” Emma asks David as they climb into the car. David is silent as he places the key in the ignition. He drives two blocks, then pulls over again, out of the sightline of the crowd back at the park.

“I’ve never seen Princess act like that,” he admits.

“Rascal has only ever played with Princess. And that one time with Wolf, but that ended badly,” Emma shudders at the memory. Rascal, unsocialized as he was, tried to play with Wolf and only ended up angering the over-sized husky. It had escalated quickly but Emma was able to break it up before any real damage was done. Both dogs had walked away with small scratches and a puncture or two, but nothing life-threatening.

David stares at Emma but she refuses to look at him. She knows what he’s thinking, but it’s impossible.

“Maybe these dogs—”

“They’re stray dogs, David.” The phrase feels strange on her tongue. Those two words don’t match up like ‘stray cats’ or ‘abandoned gerbils’. “They don’t belong to anyone.”

He continues to watch her, waiting for her to come to the same conclusion he’s reached. And she has. She knows exactly what this means, but she’s just not sure how.

“One _could_ say that we—”

“We’re not strays. Orphans are not strays.” Tears are welling up and she swallows hard, trying to keep her emotions under control.

Once they turned 17 and had wanted a place of their own, Emma started waiting tables at the diner and David cleaned kennels at the vet. It wasn’t pretty or glamorous, but it got them a shabby apartment and food on the table - food that wasn’t deep-fried in the kitchen at Granny’s. It meant they could take care of Princess and Rascal when they came along.

For half their lives, Emma and David have been orphans. Even as an adult, Emma feels the absence of a parent in the same way she did when she was 14. She struggles sometimes to remember her mother’s voice or her father’s laugh, but David always helps her to remember. He’s dealt with the pain better than she has. She still feels like a lost orphan sometimes, and he often has to pick her back up and remind her of how much she really has in front of her.

“Emma.” David’s voice brings Emma back to the present, to the situation at hand and the four dogs in their backseat. “Those dogs wouldn’t come to anyone else, and then they just suddenly decide to follow Princess and Rascal and come back with us, no chasing or even _leashing_ involved whatsoever?”

“I know what happened, David, I was there. But my original point still stands: the dogs were loose. No collars, no tags.”

David sighs in defeat and starts the car again. When they arrive back at the station, Princess and Rascal show their two new friends to their bed and the four of them curl up together in what Emma can only think of as a Cuddle Puddle.

It’s ridiculously cute and it’s making Emma’s heart ache.

Loathe as she is to admit it, these dogs very clearly belong to David and Emma’s soulmates. The problem is that they don’t seem to belong to anyone at all.

************

After the excitement of the morning, it’s a normal, quiet day at the station. Emma spends far too much time staring at the large pile of fur in the corner of the room. The light gold fur of Rascal’s new friend is reflecting in the small bit of sunlight that shines through the window.

_I guess you’re meant to be me_, Emma thinks to herself. _It’s no wonder whatever human you’re attached to didn’t want you anymore_.

She feels a strange hole in her heart, as though she’s missing something – or someone – that she’s never had to begin with. If this is what having a soulmate feels like, she wants absolutely no part of it.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t have much of a say in the matter.

She can tell David’s feeling the same phantom pains. He’s hunched over his desk, focusing too hard on the paperwork in front of him, his grip on the pen just a bit too tight.

“I’m going to get some early dinner at Granny’s. I’ll be back,” Emma announces, unable to sit in the quiet room anymore. “Do you want your usual?”

David looks up from the desk in surprise as though he’s forgotten she’s still in the room with him. He nods once and then goes back to whatever he’s working on.

Out on the street, with Rascal as her only company, Emma instantly feels better. Being away from the strange reminder that she _does_ in fact have a soulmate, they’re just… what? missing?... clears her head, and the pain in her chest eases to a dull soreness.

“Did you find the owners?” Granny asks as soon as Emma steps foot in the door. Granny’s never been known for being subtle.

Emma shakes her head, fighting off the tears that inexplicably well up in her eyes at the thought of the poor dogs back at the station without any owners. She places her takeout order and sips a Coke at the counter while she waits.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Lucas,” comes a voice from the door. Rascal’s ears perk up and Emma turns her head. She’s never seen the man before – a rare occurrence in Storybrooke, and now it’s happened twice in one day. He’s scruffy, in a nice way, and has an attractive amount of chest hair peeking out from the top of his shirt. He smiles easily at Granny, but she scowls at him in return.

“I’ve told you, everyone calls me ‘Granny.’” She smiles, but it’s one of mocking. “Because I’m so kind and grandmotherly.”

“Of course, ma’am. Apologies.” The man continues to grin despite the older woman’s eye roll. He places an order and walks towards the seats at the counter.

Towards Emma.

She tries not to stare, really she does, but she rarely runs into people in this small, sleepy town that she doesn’t already know. Who is this man?

“No need to stare, love, I’m not going anywhere.” The man smirks at her, raising an eyebrow. He’s got a slight accent, British perhaps, and Emma tries not to think about how sexy it is.

“Not your love,” Emma retorts with a small laugh. He laughs at her quick wit and then glances down at Rascal.

“May I um… may I greet your dog?” he asks.

It’s a strange question. Most people don’t ask, they simply stick their hands right in Rascal’s face. He rarely reacts at all, but he’s been known to give big, wet kisses to some of Emma’s closer friends. She trusts his judgement, especially after he’d been right about Neal from the beginning….

Emma nods, watching Rascal to see what he’ll do. He sits up straight and stares at the man with curious eyes.

The man bends his knees and crouches down so he and Rascal are nearly the same height. He doesn’t say anything to him, merely holds his hand out, palm up, for the dog to consider. Rascal does, sniffing it and then moving closer so he can sniff the rest of the man’s arm, and then finally his face. If the man is surprised by the dog’s behavior, he doesn’t act like it.

“Hey bud,” he says softly. “I don’t have one myself,” he says to Emma, and she thinks back to her conversation with David about people without dogs. “What’s his name?” Rascal is practically in the man’s lap now.

“Rascal. And um… I’m Emma,” she holds her hand out awkwardly for him to shake. He looks up at her and takes her hand, kissing it instead. She does her best not to roll her eyes at the corny move.

“Killian,” he tells her. “Killian Jones. I just moved here with my step-sister.”

Emma wants to ask if his sister has a dog, if he’s alone in his loneliness. But she doesn’t, if only because Granny calls out her name for her takeout order.

“Nice to meet you,” she tells him, pulling a reluctant Rascal out the door. Killian waves at her as she leaves, and she feels the pain in her chest inexplicably expand as she walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mention this previously, but I'll be updating on a Mon/Thurs schedule until the story is complete :)


	4. Chapter Three

“Where are the dogs?” Emma asks David when she returns to find Princess alone on the bed in the corner of the room.

“Some woman from the shelter came and took them,” he says with a shrug, but she can tell he’s frustrated. “They’ll wait there until their rightful owners come along, I guess.”

They look at each other and neither of them speaks the question that’s on both of their minds: what if they never come?

The shelter isn’t really equipped for dogs, so Emma makes a mental note to head over tomorrow to make sure the goldens are being cared for properly. The Storybrooke Animal Shelter mostly takes in stray cats, domestic rabbits, and some birds and exotic pets. This is a situation they likely aren’t prepared for. She adds a few dog-related items to the grocery list on her phone, including food and a big, comfy bed, before sitting down at her desk.

Rascal takes his spot beside Princess while Emma and David dive into their meals.

The rest of the day, and then the week, passes without incident. The golden retrievers sit, patiently, at the shelter, waiting for their designated humans. Rumors begin floating around about their appearance – their owners died, abandoned them, ran off with other people, hoping to leave fate and soulmates behind. Emma and David bring Princess and Rascal to the shelter a few times to play with the goldens, and one of the volunteers tells them it’s the only time the smaller one does anything at all. Emma’s heart aches again and she tries to fight off the voice in her head telling her that this sad, lonely dog is supposed to be _her counterpart_.

It’s two weeks post-Operation Retriever Rescue when David runs into the woman from the school again. With all the excitement and confusion, Emma had forgotten about her entirely.

“She was at Granny’s,” David tells her, his eyes lit up in a way Emma’s never seen before. “Her name is Mary Margaret and she teaches the fourth grade. She’s lovely, Emma, I think you’re going to like her.”

“I’m sorry, am I meeting her sometime soon?” Emma raises an eyebrow. It’s unlike her brother to get so caught up in a woman. He hasn’t really dated since Kathryn for fear of another heartbreak, and he’s only met this woman once.

“I invited her to lunch tomorrow,” he admits, avoiding her gaze.

“You invited her to Spaghetti Saturday?” Emma shouts. She’s not _truly_ angry at him, but she is a little surprised. Spaghetti Saturday is a tradition that goes back to when they were kids. They’ve never invited anyone else, not even Kathryn or Neal.

“She’s a teacher, she’s only free for lunch two days a week!” He looks at her in a way she can only describe as pleading.

“You really like this woman?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve only met her once.”

“Twice.”

Emma crosses her arms. David sighs and mumbles ‘once’ under his breath.

“Fine, she can come to Spaghetti Saturday _one time_.” She holds up a finger for emphasis. “Did you ask her about…” she trails off, glancing towards Princess in the corner. David shakes his head.

“She was really good with Princess, though, and they seemed to like each other.”

“Well, that’s something.”

Saturday comes quickly. Emma and David claim their usual booth at Granny’s, but he sits beside her instead of across from her.

“Why do I have to get smushed over here just because you insisted on bringing a date to our tradition?” She playfully elbows him in the side. He lets out a low ‘oof’ sound and glares at her.

“You’re going to be nice, right?”

“I’m always nice,” she exclaims as the door opens and an unfamiliar face walks in. The woman is classically beautiful: all big eyes and soft lips. Her hair is cut in a short pixie and Emma thinks it’s rare to see someone pull such short hair off so well. The woman looks towards their table and grins.

David stands to greet her and they do the awkward dance that people do when they’re unsure of how to greet each other. Is a hug too intimate? A handshake too formal? Emma has to bite back a laugh when they settle on a strange high five.

“Emma, this is Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret, this is my sister, Emma.”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” the woman exclaims, and Emma feels an instant sense of comfort. She can see why David’s smitten with her already. She gives off a vibe of pure kindness and her smile is contagious. For a brief second, Emma thinks about how Princess has always been the sweetest dog -- Kathryn interactions notwithstanding -- before she shakes the idea from her head.

They settle into easy conversation while they wait for their entrees to arrive.

“Are you new in town, Mary Margaret?” Emma asks. “It’s just… I’ve never seen you, and in a town this small, that’s pretty rare.” Or at least it _was_ rare.

“I am!” Mary Margaret seems pleased to answer every question Emma throws at her. “I just moved here about a month ago.”

“She’s from London,” David tells Emma proudly, as though he’s had something to do with where the woman was born.

Mary Margaret laughs and explains that she was _born_ in London but she’s been in America for essentially her entire life.

“I moved back to England a year ago to reconnect with some family, but I just missed the States. So here I am!”

Emma thinks about the man she met in this very diner two weeks ago. She wants to ask if Mary Margaret has a step-brother she’s moved here with, but then their food comes and they all eat in pleasant silence.

After lunch, Emma and David head back to the station. David tells Mary Margaret that he’ll call her, and their goodbye is just as awkwardly stunted as their greeting. Emma rolls her eyes and shakes the other woman’s hand before turning and walking away, Rascal’s leash in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other.

David jogs to catch up with her and then breathlessly asks her: “What did you think?”

“She’s nice,” Emma admits. “I see why you like her.”

“Do you think it’s crazy to try and date her?”

Emma stops, stumbles a moment when Rascal tries to keep walking, and then stares at her brother.

“I think that’s really a question you should be asking_ yourself_,” she tells him pointedly. 

She’d been wary of the entire situation, but after meeting Mary Margaret, seeing the way this new woman already makes her brother so happy -- happy in a way Kathryn never did -- gives Emma just the tiniest amount of hope.

“I think I’m going to ask her. To dinner. Just the two of us.” Princess lets out a low whine. “Okay, the _three_ of us.” David seems to be deciding as he speaks, and if Emma were really pressed to comment on it, she’d say that she was proud of her brother. He’s willing to put himself back out there, post-heartbreak, and Emma’s never even considered doing that. Not since Neal.

“Good,” she tells him, and they continue their walk back to the station in companionable silence.

~~~~~~

“They got adopted,” David tells her a week later when she walks into the station. 

She doesn’t ask who. She knows he’s talking about the pair of golden retrievers that have been sitting at the shelter for three weeks now. They’ve made a habit of checking every day, of calling the shelter or visiting them with Princess and Rascal in tow, making sure that they’re taken care of by _someone_.

She does, however, have a more important question.

“By who?”

David’s eyes answer her question before his mouth does.

“Mary Margaret and her step-brother.” 

He’s briefly mentioned the step-brother once, in passing, and it was easy enough for Emma to ignore the comment altogether.

David tells her that the siblings had gone to the shelter hoping for a bird or a chameleon or something simple to liven up their shoddy two-bedroom loft. They’d wanted one pet, to share.

According to the shelter, the two dogs, who’d officially been named Charming and Procella, had stood at the front of their shared kennel and just stared. They’d watched as Mary Margaret and her mysterious brother walked around the kennels and cages and tanks. They’d watched, quietly, on their best behavior. Not that they ever really misbehaved, but they were generally indifferent. Other potential adopters had stopped by to see them, and they’d slept through the visits mostly. 

Emma thinks about the day she and David picked up the goldens at the park. How they’d been trying to stay away from everyone until the Nolan siblings and their playful pitbulls came along. She can picture them sitting in their kennel the same way they’d sat that day.

Ready for anything.

When Mary Margaret and her step-brother had approached the kennel, it had been love at first sight. Emma can tell that this part of the story is coming from David’s new girlfriend’s point of view. The way he’s gone all wistful and, dare she say, hopeful, says it all.

“They had to take them!” He jumps up from his chair and grabs Emma’s shoulders. “Do you know what this means?”

“It means we don’t have to call the shelter every day to check on them anymore. They’ve got a good home.” Emma sniffs and steps away from David’s grip.

“Emma, those dogs… they’re supposed to be us. You have to know that.” He follows her to her seat, plops himself down on the corner of her desk, making himself impossible to be ignored.

“I know that one of them has a really weird name now,” Emma says as she crosses her arms. “And my name’s pretty normal.” _Coffee shops notwithstanding_, she thinks to herself.

“The dogs don’t choose their names,” David says with an exaggerated eye roll. “_Killian_ chose Procella.”

There it is. She purposely hadn’t asked the step-brother’s name or what he did for a living or whether he had a really charming British accent or a manly chest covered in--

Dammit.

“Killian?” Emma asks innocently, taking a large sip of her very hot coffee, willing herself not to cough it back up all over the place.

“Mary Margaret’s step-brother. Have we not talked about him?” David eyes her carefully, but Emma keeps her face even.

“Mm, no, I don’t think so. At least not by name.”

“Well I guess he was a Latin teacher or tutor or something before he moved here, so Mary Margaret said she wasn’t surprised he picked a Latin name for the dog.”

“What does it mean?” she hears herself asking, coffee hovering near her lips but not quite completing the journey.

“It’s like a storm, or a hurricane,” David tells her, and he’s smirking, and Emma knows there’ll be no distracting him now.

“Hmm,” she replies, before placing the cup in her hands on the side of the desk _not_ occupied by her brother’s ass and turning to her computer. “Well, now that that’s settled, I imagine we can go back to normal around here.”

“Hmm, indeed.” David finally moves off of her desk, but Emma feels him watching her for the rest of the day, waiting to see if she’ll finally react to the news. She doesn’t. Even when he leaves the room, she keeps working as though nothing’s changed, as though that ache in her chest hasn’t been reformed now, as though she isn’t _painfully_ aware that Procella - really, what the fuck was with that name - is her canine counterpart.

As though her fucking _soulmate_ isn’t out there walking around town.

As though her entire world hasn’t just turned around completely.


	5. Chapter Four

“Emma!” An unfamiliar voice calls her and she turns around, expecting a random citizen of the town to be flagging her down for something like a flat tire or a pothole or something else that _really_ doesn’t require the sheriff’s attention.

She’s pleasantly surprised to find a familiar man and an even more familiar golden retriever heading her way. Rascal starts whining and Emma rolls her eyes. Of course her dog can’t make this easy for her.

‘This’ meaning her whole ‘nothing has changed’ attitude.

Because nothing had changed. It’s been two weeks since the goldens were adopted. Princess and Charming get along famously, and David is the happiest he’s ever been. He keeps insisting that Emma needs to meet Killian, that if nothing else, Rascal probably wants to play with Procella. But Emma keeps telling him that if they’re meant to meet, if they really are soulmates, they will. (She, of course, neglects to mention that she already _has_ met Killian. No need to get her brother more excited about this whole thing than he already is)

She hates when she’s right.

“Hey, Killian. Long time no see.” She keeps her voice casual, even as Rascal’s tail starts thumping against her leg painfully in anticipation of seeing his friend. “How are you settling into Storybrooke?”

“Quite well!” He seems lighter somehow, more free, than he had during their brief interaction at Granny’s. His eyes are brighter, even, and he holds Procella’s leash naturally in his right hand, as though he’s always had the extra limb that dogs tend to become. “I wanted to thank you, actually.”

“Thank me?” Fed up with Rascal’s whining, she unclips his leash and lets him run the short distance to Killian and Procella. They walk towards Emma as a threesome, Killian easily navigating the tangles that occur as the two dogs run around his legs excitedly.

“Well when my sister and I went to the shelter, they told us what happened with Charming and Procella. How you and David managed to get them when apparently they wouldn’t let anyone else come near them.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “So, if you hadn’t done that, we wouldn’t have found them. Or, rather, they wouldn’t have found us.” He leans down to unclip Procella’s leash so the dogs stop tangling him up, but Emma notices that he can’t seem to get a grip on the clip. He tries to balance his coffee in his other hand, but it nearly spills and Emma catches it just in time. “Thanks,” he says again, using his now free right hand to finally release his dog. 

Procella and Rascal circle Emma and Killian, sniffing each other’s tails, for a moment before tackling each other and rolling around in the dirt. Emma laughs to herself before turning back to Killian, whose eyes are on her instead of the dogs.

“She doesn’t seem to really play like this with anyone else,” he tells her, scratching behind his ear. Emma pictures Rascal the one time he’d had an accident in the house, when he’d scratched his poor ear so badly out of nerves that he’d had to wear a cone for a week.

Emma _really_ hates being right.

Here’s the thing: Emma knows that, on some level, soulmates means they’re meant to be. And all signs - all of the red, flashing, bold-faced signs - point to her and Killian being soulmates. But what if he doesn’t love her? What if he doesn’t even like her? They don’t know each other, obviously, so there’s no way to tell what could happen down the road. But Emma’s heart never fully healed from Neal, if she’s being honest with herself, and it just doesn’t seem fair that the universe would do this to her: plop her soulmate down in front of her, make him related to her _brother’s_ soulmate to boot, and make him so handsome and charming that she can already tell she’ll fall for him if she lets herself.

But she won’t. Because she wouldn’t be able to take it if her own fucking soulmate didn’t love her. 

“Weird,” she finally says after an uncomfortable amount of time in her own head.

She feels Killian staring at her, waiting for her to comment on Rascal’s behavior. Her face heats up with a blush.

“Emma, I don’t want to come across as too forward…”

_Then don’t_, she thinks to herself. _Please, please don’t_.

“But would you and Rascal perhaps join me for lunch?”

Lunch.

Lunch seems safe. It’s not a romantic candlelit dinner or a picnic under the stars or a bottle of wine and a romantic comedy on Netflix.

She can do lunch with this insanely good-looking man without feeling anything other than physical attraction. Besides, he’s still sort of new in town and honestly, they’re bound to see each other more often now that Mary Margaret and David are getting more sickeningly sweet by the minute. 

“Okay,” Emma finds herself saying. And the smile Killian gives her is honestly both heartwarming and terrifying, because she knows that he’s probably figured out exactly what she’s known since the moment he adopted Procella.

Killian Jones is her fucking soulmate.

***************

As it turns out, lunch _is_ a pretty safe choice. And Rascal is the happiest Emma’s ever seen him, running around with Procella. 

“So how does one become the sheriff of a small town such as this?” Killian asks her once they’re settled together on a park bench, two grilled cheese sandwiches between them.

“I sort of fell into being a deputy. Once Ne--,” Emma stops herself, not quite ready to talk about her love life yet. She and Killian are, after all, just friends having lunch together. She starts over. “I had a history of being a troublemaker, and I wanted to start fresh, move past the years I’d caused problems and, instead, start fixing them. David was already a deputy, so I sort of followed in his footsteps. And then our old sheriff, Graham, moved to Boston for a huge pay raise. And we needed someone to take charge.” She shrugs.

“Out of curiosity, if David was a deputy first, wouldn’t he have been the one to get promoted?”

It’s a fair question, and Emma’s not offended by it, but Killian’s looking at her warily, like it might upset her. She smiles, and he relaxes noticeably.

“David wanted me to take it. We debated for weeks, and I had that same argument. But apparently, according to both David and Graham, people listen to me. I know how to, and I’m quoting here, ‘command the attention of a room’. So, I was officially recommended by the previous sheriff. There was a vote and everything, but I won by a landslide.” She takes a bite of her sandwich, swallows dramatically. “Not to brag, of course.”

“Of course,” Killian echoes with a laugh.

Yes, Emma can definitely be friends with this nice, friendly man who asked her to lunch. When they go their separate ways, he asks her when she’s free for lunch again.

So they do it again a week later.

And the week after that.

It occurs to Emma that, by most people’s definitions, she and Killian might be dating. They go out on regular _outings_ and they talk and their dogs play together. She’s told him about her parents dying and about Granny taking them in and, this week, she’s telling him about David’s reaction when he first saw Mary Margaret.

“Oh, she definitely saw him, too.” Killian laughs, and Emma is trying really hard not to love the sound. “I remember that day because she came home with this weird glazed look on her face. She’d never looked like that before.”

Emma tells him about David’s bright eyes and about how sad he was that this beautiful woman didn’t have a dog.

“She does now,” Killian says. “And they’re practically inseparable so I guess it’s safe to say they’ve sort of known all along, even before she got Charming.”

He looks at her sideways and she pretends not to notice.

“David’s had his heart broken before.” Emma realizes that she’s sharing her brother’s story, which isn’t really her place, so she changes direction. “So if I can be honest with you, I wasn’t totally on board with him dating your sister. At least not at first” 

“A protective sibling. I’m familiar with that.” Killian laughs, but it’s a quiet, almost sad laugh this time.

“Mary Margaret doesn’t seem the over-protective type,” Emma finally turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I had a brother. Liam. He passed away years ago, around the time my father married Mary Margaret’s mother.” Killian’s staring into space now. “I don’t… I don’t really talk about it. It’s just…”

“I’m so sorry,” Emma puts her arm on his shoulder before she can stop herself. He turns to look at her and they both freeze.

It’s the first time she’s really touched him since he kissed her hand in the diner all those weeks ago. And that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“Thanks,” he whispers sincerely. They keep looking at each other, unsure of where to go from here. He leans forward, just a bit, waiting for her to either move forward as well or to reject him outright.

“Killian, I…” Emma trails off, wanting to apologize, to explain, anything but the silence lingering in between them. “I can’t do... this.”

“I’m sorry, Emma. I just thought…” He looks sad, but not angry. He glances at the dogs, who’ve fallen asleep at their feet, tired out from playing for an hour now.

“I know.” She takes a deep breath. Killian is _nice_ and he’s _good_ and she feels like she owes him some semblance of an explanation. “David’s not the only one who had his heart broken.”

Killian looks at her, a softness in his eyes. Emma opens her mouth to continue, but no sound comes out. So he talks instead.

“I dated a woman named Milah back in England.” He swallows, his jaw tense. “Neither of us had been matched, so it just sort of… made sense. But she wanted to travel, and I wanted to stay close to home, close to Liam. Even though he was… well, he was long gone by then.” He turns to meet Emma’s eyes. She expects to feel an urge to look away, but it doesn’t come, and she holds his gaze as he continues. “It wasn’t all that dramatic, not really. But it _felt_ dramatic at the time, you know? She left, and I stayed. And, in a strange and cruel twist of fate, I ended up leaving anyway.”

“When _you_ were ready,” Emma says.

“Aye, that’s the long and short of it, I suppose.”

Emma takes another breath.

“There was this guy, back when I was eighteen. His name was Neal.” Rascal growls in his sleep, and Emma lets out a small laugh. “Rascal wasn’t a fan, clearly. Which, you know, should have been the first sign. Anyway, he made me feel… different. Special, I guess.” She rolls her eyes at her own naivety. “David had met Kathryn by that point and I was really just _alone_ for the first time in my life. It had always been me and David. But Neal came along and suddenly I wasn’t alone. I had a partner, or whatever. We had these plans to run off together, leave Storybrooke behind. We got into some bad shit: stealing everything from money to food to cars. He got caught with this whole trunk full of high-end, expensive watches and tried to pin it on me. But I’d been with David the whole time, who was already in training to be a police officer, so you know who they’re gonna believe.” Emma shakes her head, really remembering all of the details for the first time in years. “I just couldn’t believe he’d turned on me. And then he went away to prison, and I don’t know how long he’ll be there for, but at any rate, he’s gone. Which I guess is the important thing.” On the ground by her feet, Rascal scooches a little closer to her, comforting her even in his sleep. “So I’ve been alone ever since.”

Killian nods slowly, looking away from Emma for the first time since she started speaking.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Emma. That’s… well, that would have ruined me.” He turns towards her again. “I kind of want to hit him.” His voice comes out low, almost a growl. Emma’s surprised at how affected he is by her story. And then a memory hits her.

Emma laughs, a loud, open laugh that has her gasping for breath. Because the first time Rascal ever met Neal, the dog had growled in almost the exact same tone. Once she catches her breath, she tells Killian and he laughs as well.

“I feel it’s been an unspoken rule that we don’t talk about this, Emma, but I find that Rascal reminds me of myself in the strangest ways, and more every time I see him.”

Emma sighs.

“Yeah, I know.” She chuckles softly. “He even scratches his ear when he’s nervous. It’s ridiculous, honestly.” She takes another deep breath, another confession on the tip of her tongue. “You know, I used to wonder if my soulmate was waiting for my in Europe or something, and that was why it was taking just about _forever_ to find them.”

Killian smiles, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. 

“I had a similar thought for most of my life. Like, maybe I’m limiting myself over here. Maybe there’s a woman stuck across the pond and I’m just here, waiting for her to swim to me.”

“So why’d you come here?”

“Honestly?” Killian scratches the back of his ear, then seems to catch himself in the act. A blush rises up his neck. “Mary Margaret convinced me. She moved out to England to reconnect with her mother, but they fought more than they got along, and Mary Margaret felt it best if she left. They do better when they’re not together, the two of them. I think they talk weekly now.” Killian shrugs. “My dad and I were never close to begin with. The only things keeping me in England were memories. My mom and my brother are buried there, of course. But Mary Margaret reminded me, without being quite so crass as this, that she’s still _alive_ and that we really never got the chance to get to know each other. So, somehow, she convinced me to come here. To America. To Storybrooke.”

“And now here you are,” Emma says quietly.

“Here I am,” Killian agrees.

They look at each other again, and the air feels thick as Emma’s resolve starts to dissipate.

She’d been afraid that her soulmate - this man in front of her - wouldn’t _choose_ her. That he’d be with her out of obligation, because their dogs told them that was how life worked. That he wouldn’t love her, or even like her.

But she’s looking into those insanely blue eyes, and she can see that he already _does_ like her, that maybe he’s even starting to love her. And he’s chosen that. He’d asked her to lunch that first time, and then each time since. He’s chosen to spend time with her, to take their dogs on playdates. He’s sharing himself with her, and she’s sharing herself with him. And, somehow, he’s still here.

He’s (still, constantly, always) choosing her.

“I can’t promise I’m going to be an easy person to date,” she tells him. “I’m a bit of a mess, if you haven’t noticed.”

Killian shrugs.

“I named my dog ‘Procella’, Emma. As soon as the name came to me, I knew it meant that whoever she was meant to lead me to would be something of a challenge.” He takes her right hand with his left, and it feels stiff. She looks down and sees, for the first time, that it’s fake, a prosthetic. She gasps and Killian nods once, seeing her make the connection between this and Rascal’s missing limb. “Another time,” he whispers. She looks back at his face and he clears his throat before he continues. “Once we took the dogs home, it struck me how different she was from Charming. Mary Margaret’s dog was following her around like they’d been together their whole lives. It took a full week for Procella to sit with me on the couch.”

“So you like a challenge, then?” Emma tries to bring some levity to the conversation, to ease up the heavy look he’s giving her.

“Aye, you could certainly say that.”

“Okay, then.” She nods resolutely. And then she kisses him on the cheek. 

She’s choosing to try.


	6. Chapter Five

_Six Months Later._

It shouldn’t be a surprise when David brings up the topic of his moving out when they meet for lunch, just the two of them. Emma should have seen the conversation coming, really, but she’s been so caught up in her own romance, in having someone to share her innermost thoughts with, in Rascal having a playmate besides Princess… that she’s completely caught off guard.

“Mary Margaret and I are going to move in together,” David tells her, spaghetti sauce lingering in the corners of his lips. Emma opens her mouth to interrupt, but he keeps going before she can. “And we were thinking that maybe we could just… keep doing what we’re doing. I’ll move into the loft, and Killian could move in with you--”

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Emma nearly yells, but then lowers her voice, remembering that they’re at Granny’s, in the middle of the Saturday lunch rush, in a town full of gossips. “You moving in with Mary Margaret… sucks, if I can be selfish for a second, but... it makes sense. But why would you think Killian and I would move in together?”

David looks at her like she’s grown an extra head.

“Because he spends literally _every single night_ at the apartment with you?” David offers, but Emma sits silently, staring daggers at him, so he continues. “Emma, you spend nearly every waking moment with him. You’re _soulmates_. It just… makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Emma thinks about it. She tries to remember the last time she slept alone, one side of her bed cold, with only Rascal at her feet instead of the extra weight of a second dog. Or the last time she woke up to the smell of her brother’s burnt coffee (or worse, nothing at all) instead of the delicious pancakes Killian’s taken to cooking for her. 

It had happened so naturally that Emma didn’t even notice. One night, she was sleeping alone in her too-large bed, her brother snoring away in the bedroom down the hall, and the next, David was away at Mary Margaret’s and Killian had taken up residence against Emma’s side.

And then it just sort of stayed like that.

More often than not, they fall asleep on the couch, watching movies and old TV shows, Rascal and Procella curled up together in the armchair. Usually, they wake up together and the four of them trudge to the bedroom and resume their snuggling in a much more comfortable way. Occasionally, when Emma’s had a long day or hasn’t been sleeping well, she’ll fall asleep on the couch and wake up in her bed, with no recollection of getting there. Killian blushes whenever she asks him if he’s carried her down the hall, telling her that she just must not remember waking up.

The man _carries her to bed_.

All told, dating Killian is simple. There’s no grand gestures, which tend to make Emma self-conscious, and there’s no begging for sex, which Neal had done constantly. It’s exactly like it was when they were meeting for lunch every week, except that they’re together almost all the time.

Plus she gets to see a lot more of that chest hair.

It’s actually kind of gross - the sickeningly sweet relationship, not the chest hair - and Emma is constantly surprised at how _comfortable_ she is with it. Must be a soulmate thing.

But still. Moving in together? It just seems so fast.

“I don’t want to scare you, Emma, but you’ve got a really wistful look on your face.” David is smirking now, and Emma knows he’s right, really. That swapping out names on a lease won’t change anything, that they’ve already been practically living together for six months.

At that exact moment, just as she’s weighing her options, debating the fear she’s feeling versus the idea of something more _permanent_, Killian and Mary Margaret walk in the door of the diner.

Any stress Emma feels completely dissipates when her eyes meet Killian’s, and she knows she’s lost the battle. And she can’t even be that upset about it.

“We’re not here to interrupt,” Mary Margaret chirps, all heart-eyes as she looks at David. “We’re starting our own Saturday tradition, but it also involves Granny’s. So… we’re just taking it to go.” She leans down to give David a chaste kiss, and then looks at him meaningfully. “We’ll let you _get back to it_.”

Emma watches the two of them, and imagines the conversation they must have had that led them here. Or, more likely, conversations. Plural. Because Emma knows her brother, knows that he knows all of her insecurities and her fears and she’s sure that it would have taken ages for him to work up the courage to talk to her about moving out. 

Especially after last time.

But, Emma rationalizes, this time is different. For one, Mary Margaret is clearly David’s soulmate. There’s a reason they’re together all the time, a reason they _practically_ live together. Moving in together isn’t just the _logical _next step in their relationship: it’s literally the only next step. Emma’s seen David looking at rings online during their many hours of downtime at work. She’s not stupid. 

_Plus_, she thinks to herself, _I’m not exactly alone, am I?_ She looks up at Killian again. At this man who chose to get to know her _agonizingly_ slowly despite knowing full well that they were meant to be. Who’s never pushed her or made her uncomfortable. 

Her brother is right.

After an uncomfortable amount of silence and meaningful looks on both sides of the table, Emma rolls her eyes and grabs the end of Killian’s jacket sleeve. He settles in beside her, casually throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“You can join us, Mary Margaret. We’ve already talked,” Emma says.

“We have?” David asks, eyeing his sister carefully. 

“Yeah, we have.” She smiles and David seems to catch her meaning because he smiles back, crinkles forming in the corner of his eyes.

************

As Emma climbs into her brother’s truck, she’s struck with the strangest sense of deja vu. She turns around, sees the piles of furniture and boxes tied up in the truck bed, and she realizes that she’s done this before.

She knows, obviously, that her brother moved out before. She’d helped him move. But those memories are so surrounded by darkness, loneliness, and downright sadness that she’s shoved them out of her mind until right this moment. But this time, she feels a little hopeful.

Just a little.

“Ready?” David asks as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” Emma says, and it’s not a lie.

When they arrive at the loft, Mary Margaret and Killian are waiting outside. Just the sight of him makes Emma smile, which then makes her cringe.

_Sickeningly sweet_, she thinks to herself. But she can’t bring herself to be upset at the simple happiness she’s feeling. She surprises him -- and herself -- by wrapping her arms around his neck when she steps out of the truck.

“Hi,” she says, followed by a soft kiss on his mouth.

“Well hello, love.” He’s smiling. She smiles back.

“Uh, are we moving today or are we all just making out on the front lawn?” David asks, his arms folded across his chest, but there’s no anger on his face. Just a small smirk in the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry, _Dad_,” Emma groans, separating herself from Killian and grabbing a box out of the truck bed.

When it’s all over, and David’s moved into the loft, and Killian’s moved into the apartment, Emma collapses on the couch. Rascal hops up beside her and situates himself with his head in her lap.

“Tired?” Killian asks her.

“Are you not?” Emma knows he must be. Her muscles are screaming, her eyes closing of their own accord.

“Oh, certainly. But I’d hoped we could celebrate.” He pulls out a bottle of wine from behind his back. 

“Celebrate what?” Emma snorts. “You know we’ve been doing this for six months now, it’s just that now your stuff is in my closet instead of all the way back at home. You can actually get dressed in fresh clothes in the morning.”

“And that’s not cause for a celebratory glass of wine?” Killian asks, putting the bottle down and walking back to the kitchen to get two glasses.

“One glass, Jones.” She holds up a finger to emphasise her point. “And then you can carry me to bed like the gentleman you are.”

“Oh, I think I can handle that.”

It turns out living together is exactly like _practically_ living together, in almost every conceivable way. Emma has to make room in her closet, but they’ve got a spare room now, so she just moves her shorts and her summer dresses into David’s old closet and leaves her thick coats and heaviest shirts in her own room until the winter chill finally subsides.

There are still pancakes every morning, and most nights they still fall asleep on the couch for a few hours before slowly migrating to their bed. 

_Their bed_.

It’s all very domestic, and Emma slowly stops waiting for the other shoe to drop. She stops waiting for the morning she’ll wake up and there won’t be a handsome Englishman waiting for her, stops hesitating before she opens up the door for fear that his stuff will all be gone.

She stops being afraid.


	7. Chapter Six

Emma isn’t surprised when David walks into the station starry-eyed on a Thursday in the spring. She knows he proposed to Mary Margaret the night before, and Emma knows -- knew before David even bought the ring -- the answer was yes.

There’s never been any question for the two of them. David knew before Mary Margaret even adopted Charming. He knew that the fourth grade teacher at Storybrooke Elementary with the big eyes and the bigger heart was it for him. She made his heart stutter and his mouth run dry before she even said a single word to him.

Emma’s happy for David, truly. She’s long since forgotten her fears about heartbreak when it comes to her brother and his soulmate. She is not, however, excited about what comes out of his mouth after he tells her the news.

“She wants you to be her maid of honor.”

“_What_?!” Emma winces at the high pitch of her voice. “I’m… I barely… why?” 

David smirks at her. It’s the same face he made when he had to spell out the fact that Killian should move in with her. Smug bastard.

“Mary Margaret doesn’t know a lot of people here, you know. And you’re also her brother’s soulmate. And her soulmate’s sister.” He’s started ticking off reasons on his fingers. He raises a fourth finger, opening his mouth, but Emma stops him.

“Okay, okay, fine. I get it. It’s just… maid of honor?” Emma drops her head into her hands. “That means planning stuff like a bridal shower and a bachelorette party, doesn’t it? That’s a lot. I barely know the woman myself, I don’t even--”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about any of that.” David’s smirk morphs into a full-on smile. “We’re getting married in two weeks.”

“_What_?!” Emma screeches again.

“We don’t want to wait anymore! We just want to… _be married_.” David’s gone wistful now, surely imagining lots of little Nolan babies running around their little loft apartment.

“How are you planning to put together an entire ceremony in two weeks?” Emma crosses her arms over her chest, eyebrows nearly into her hairline now.

“We’re going to City Hall,” David says with a shrug.

Emma’s still skeptical.

“I don’t know her very well, but Mary Margaret seems the type to want a big wedding, with all of her family, and lots and lots of flowers.” 

David rolls his eyes.

“Yes, you’re right. But we just want to be married now. We can have another ceremony later with all of that stuff.”

“So now I have to be Maid of Honor _twice_?”

“Yes.” David’s firm answer leaves no more room for complaints. This is important to him, clearly. He doesn’t ask Emma for much, and really, this isn’t even an imposition. She loves Mary Margaret, loves her for David especially. She’s just never really had a friend close enough to warrant a bridesmaid conversation, nevermind Maid of Honor. 

Besides, most of her friends haven’t even bothered to tie the knot. They’re just… together.

"If it helps," David adds, "Killian's my best man."

“Fine,” Emma agrees with an eyeroll, but there’s a smile on her face, too.

****

For only having two weeks to plan what Emma has begun thinking of as _The Wedding of the Century_, David and Mary Margaret have done a lovely job. Mary Margaret found a beautiful, if simple, white dress that also came in light blue, so she bought the matching one for Emma to wear. She’s got a small bouquet of silk hydrangeas, the color almost identical to Emma’s dress. There’s a matching flower tucked into David’s tux.

Charming and Rascal wear collars of the same blue, and they’ve somehow finagled flower crowns onto Princess and Procella. It’s all very cute, and it makes Emma just a little bit sick, but also warms her heart just a tad.

And _Killian_.

Emma had suspected that her boyfriend would clean up nicely. She’d asked him not to shave -- loves his scruff too much -- and he’s listened. His own boutonnière brings out the color in his eyes, making them shine even more brightly than normal. And when they meet Emma’s from across the makeshift aisle at City Hall, they darken just a bit.

He watches her, intently, throughout the entire ceremony. And she watches him watching her. She’s overly self-conscious, but not enough to control her surprisingly emotional reactions. She bites her lip while David says his vows, a mixture of pride and something else she can’t quite name. And when the officiant instructs David and Mary Margaret to kiss for the first time as a couple, a couple of tears fall.

She’ll deny it later, but they’d hired a photographer, so she knows there’s proof.

Damn.

They invite all of their friends to a small reception at Granny’s. She’s cleared out all of the center tables and given them full control of the jukebox. David plays about fifteen slow songs in a row, and normally Emma would be griping, but… it’s so hard to complain about _anything_ when Killian’s holding her with one arm around her waist, his prosthetic hand lingering at the small of her back. She glances towards her brother, who hasn’t stopped staring at his wife since the officiant announced her as such. Killian squeezes her hand, bringing her attention back to his face.

“I wanted to give you something,” he says, looking unsure for the first time all day. “Can we step outside?”

Emma worries for a moment, unsure of what he could possibly have to give her and why he looks so concerned, but she follows him regardless. It’s chilly outside, now that night has fallen, and he drapes his leather jacket around her shoulders.

“Emma, I don’t think it’s any secret that we’re meant to be, right?” He glances at her, still wary, even after all this time, that she’ll deny the fact that they’re soulmates. She nods, unsure where this is going. “It’s just… we never talk about it, and that’s fine. But today, watching David and Mary Margaret get married and take that next step, it sort of got me thinking.” There’s the ear scratch Emma has been waiting for. He reaches into his pocket, and her eyes bug out of her head. 

“Killian, I don’t--”

“Calm down, Swan, I’m not proposing.”

The nickname calms her down more than the words. Ever since he’d learned her mother’s maiden name, Swan, he’s taken to referring to her as such, claiming it ‘suits her’ more than Nolan, and that it has more of a ring to it. She doesn’t care why he uses the name, but she does love the way it rolls off his tongue.

_Love_.

She’s been thinking the word more frequently recently, in relation to Killian. It’s never _I love you_, but rather that she loves some part of him, some habit of his. She doesn’t love him, not yet.

Does she?

Does he?

“This was my brother’s ring,” he’s saying now, pulling a large ring out of his pocket. It’s on a chain, one that’s clearly well-worn, far from the shiny silver she suspects it once was. “And I’d like you to have it.” He finally meets her eyes.

“Your brother… are you sure?” Emma reaches out hesitantly, touching the worn edges of the ring. It feels heavy, but not in weight.

“Aye, I am. I… I love you, Emma. And this is the best way I can think to express that.”

“I love you, too.”

She does. She’s sure of it as soon as the words leave her lips. Of course, then Killian is kissing her and they’re both laughing because it’s such a simple thing -- just a few words, really -- but it’s as though they’ve been dancing on eggshells without realizing it, and as soon as they admit the truth about their feelings, the floor turns back into concrete and they’ve found their footing again.

She loves Killian Jones, and she’s going to wear his brother’s ring around her neck for the rest of her God damned life if that makes him happy.

A low whine comes from near their feet, where Rascal and Procella would apparently like some attention, please.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” Killian says as he reaches into his pocket again. Instead of another ring, he pulls out a plastic bag with two cookies. One is shaped like a ship, the other a hook. He hands the ship to Procella and the hook to Rascal. Both dogs run to lay together under a table. They share both cookies.

Killian wraps an arm around Emma’s shoulders and they watch their dogs together. It’s strange to Emma, still, that Rascal knew Procella was meant to be a part of their lives even before that beautiful little stray golden retriever chose Killian. The order of events is all sorts of backwards, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Because they’re here now. She reaches up and holds the ring steady against her chest. 

******

“Hey, where have you been?” Emma asks Killian a few weeks later. He’s punctual by design, always arriving home between 5:15 and 5:30, but it’s nearly 7. 

“Hmm?” He looks up at her, as though he hadn’t expected her to be home. “Oh. Work ran late. Nothing to fret over.” He finishes untying and removing his boots before stepping into the kitchen and kissing her on the cheek.

“I ordered pizza, it’s in the fridge,” she tells him. He’s acting nervous, or secretive, or some other adjective that has a negative connotation when using it to describe your normally open and honest boyfriend.

“Thanks, Swan.” He reaches in and grabs a couple of slices and gets to work wrapping them in foil and heating up the oven.

“What’s wrong with you?” Emma asks.

He finally stops moving, turns to face her.

“What do you mean?” He tries to keep his face even, she can tell, but his jaw twitches and a blush rises from his chest up to his neck. His eyes are staring just past her head, as though he thinks she won't notice.

“You’re keeping something from me, Killian. You _never_ get home late, especially without calling. And now you won’t even look at me.”

Rascal has joined her, sitting just behind her feet and staring at Killian, matching Emma’s intensity. Killian glances between the two of them, tension obvious in the set of his shoulders. Finally, he rolls his eyes.

“You two are impossible. Come on, then.” He reaches over to turn the oven off and then slides his sneakers onto his feet. Emma stays glued to her spot in the kitchen, entirely unsure of what’s happening. “Are you coming or not?”

“Coming _where_?” Emma asks, but she moves towards the door and pulls her sneakers onto her feet as well.

“Can you just… trust me? Please?” He holds his hand out to her, one eyebrow raised.

She takes it, and he leads her out the door, Rascal and Procella right behind them as they climb into the car.

\--

“Why are we here?” Emma asks, slowly extracting herself from the passenger’s seat. They’re at the docks. She comes here sometimes, though not as much in the last year or so, when she needs to think or clear her head. Ever since she’d run away as a kid and ended up here, the water has tended to calm her down when she needs it most.

Killian doesn’t answer right away. He’s watching her face, like he’s memorizing it. It’s nearly dark out, the summer sun setting behind them as they face the open water. 

“I came here a lot, when I first moved to Storybrooke,” he says finally. This is news to Emma, although she’s never shared her feelings about the water with anyone but David, so she can’t fault him for keeping this to himself. That said, it still doesn’t explain his strange behavior, or what they’re doing here together right now. “The water calms me down when my mind won’t stop moving. So I came here. The very first time, I saw you.”

This gets Emma’s attention. She’d thought, all this time, that the first time they’d seen each other had been at Granny’s Diner. But apparently that was a lie.

“Oh don’t get all narrow-eyed on me, Swan. I didn’t know it was you. It was dark out, so I couldn’t tell what Rascal looked like, especially from a distance. I only figured it out recently.” He clears his throat, then reaches out for her hand. She offers it to him more out of habit than desire, but she doesn’t take it back either. “I was talking to David--”

Emma groans at that. She hates when David meddles in her life with Killian. David’s a romantic, and he wants Emma to constantly be swept off her feet, but Emma just wants things to continue as they’ve been going.

“Listen, David wanted me to propose here, but I’m not doing that, so give me a little credit here, okay?”

For the first time since Killian came home late, Emma laughs.

“Continue,” she tells him.

“I was talking to David, and he mentioned that you came here a lot after what happened with your parents. That the water seemed to do something for your nerves that he couldn’t, and then that even Rascal couldn’t.” Killian looks at her again, waiting for confirmation. Emma nods. “So that got me thinking, and that’s when I realized I saw you on my very first night in Storybrooke, out here at the docks.”

“You’re a wonderful storyteller, Killian, but I’d love for you to get to the point.” She’s smiling.

“I bought you something,” he tells her as he starts walking, finally. They reach the water and he points to a boat. “It’s just… I wasn’t sure if you’d like it. But it’s large enough to hold the two of us, plus Rascal and Procella.” He’s speaking quickly now, rambling. “I just thought that, instead of this being a sad place for us where we go when we’re feeling lonely, we could… together, I mean, come out here when we both need to get away from everything else.”

“You bought me a boat?” Emma asks quietly.

“Aye, I did.”

“How do you… how did… Dammit, Killian, you know me better than I know myself and it’s driving me insane.” She’s laughing again as she hugs him, arms thrown around his neck.

It’s a fucking _boat_.

“But why all the secrecy?” She releases him and eyes him skeptically. “This is an incredible surprise. Why would you want to hide it?”

“Ah, I’m renaming her.” Then, the ear scratch Emma loves so much. “I didn’t want you to see her until she was done. I just bought her today. Signed the papers and all.”

_The Jewel of the Realm_ is painted in beautiful, if faded, lettering along the side of the boat.

“What’s wrong with the name it has?” Emma asks, but she knows it doesn’t feel right. It’s so regal and dramatic -- really better suited for people like her brother and Mary Margaret. Killian raises an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, you’re right. So, what’s the new name?”

“I was thinking about _The Jolly Roger_,” he says with a grin.

She loves it.

“Sounds like a pirate ship.” She bites her lip.

“Oh, I plan to do _loads_ of pillaging and plundering while aboard this ship, my love,” he says with a kiss against her hair. A shudder goes down her spine.

“When do we set sail, Captain?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid. This,” he gestures vaguely around the docks and towards the general direction of the boat, “is why I didn’t want to tell you yet.” He looks down at her, exasperated but also with a sparkle in his eye.

“There’s something else,” she says, pointing at his chest. “There’s more to this that you’re not telling me.” It’s not accusatory. Whatever else he’s hiding isn’t a bad thing, she can tell, but there’s still something there.

“Can you let me have _one thing_, Swan? My God,” he groans. “It was Liam’s boat. Okay?”

Emma stops smiling.

“Liam? Your brother?”

“Aye. She ended up passing through a few hands, as he didn’t exactly have a living will or anything, but I finally tracked her down. It wasn’t cheap, but I got her here.” His ears are bright red, and he won’t look at her.

“You never talk about Liam, you know,” she says as she takes his hand hand guides it to the ring hanging from her neck. “Not even when you gave me this.”

“It was… it was a long time ago.” He swallows a thick lump in his throat.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Killian.” She reaches up and cups his cheek. “But I’m here if you want to.”

“He… it was a car accident,” Killian looks at her, gauging her reaction, as always. She gasps, realizing not for the first time how alike their lives have been at the most unexpected moments. “Same one I lost my hand in.” He holds up his left hand, as if proving something. Emma grabs it and places it on her own waist. “He’d been talking to me, trying to tell me something, I can’t remember what. I know we were fighting. It all happened so fast. He looked at me and I remember the anger in his eyes, and then someone ran the light and it was over. I woke up in the hospital.” He shrugs, trying to pretend he’s okay.

“Let’s get on the boat,” Emma whispers after a moment of silence.

“What?”

“We don’t have to go anywhere. But it’s yours, right? Have you been on it yet since it got here?”

“I did an inspection, but that’s all,” he admits.

“So let’s get on.”

They climb on, Killian’s footing much surer than Emma’s, but he guides her. Rascal and Procella have no qualms at all, hopping aboard like they’ve been on boats their entire lives. There are two seats, but once Killian settles into one, Emma perches herself in his lap. It wouldn’t be safe if they were out on the water, but they’re still tied to the docks, sitting still as the water laps around them. They all sit in silence, even the dogs.

“I love you, Emma,” Killian whispers into her shoulder.

“I love you, too.” She turns and kisses him. It’s slow at first, and then it’s not.

Emma supposes they’ll have to christen it again once it gets its new name. When she tells Killian what she’s thinking, he growls into her mouth and they don’t leave the boat until after midnight.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're here at the end!!!  
The good news is that there will be a 1-2 chapter (just deciding how to split it up) companion piece from Killian's POV coming out on Monday! WOO!!!  
Thank you so much for reading this story that I truly never thought I would finish. It means everything to me that people liked it even the tiniest bit, and I hope this last chapter is as satisfying for you to read as it was for me to write.  
(Also, I took some liberties with the whole house-purchasing process, so... bear with me, okay?)

Killian is going to propose.

Emma can feel it in her bones. No, in her very soul. Which makes sense since, you know, soulmates and all.

She can’t figure out when he’s going to do it, or where. He hasn’t asked her to go out to any special dinners. They haven’t made any plans to take the boat out yet, as apparently Killian wants it to be perfect before they take her on her maiden voyage as _The Jolly Roger_. 

She supposes that could be _why _he wants to make it perfect, if he wants to propose on the boat. But she really just wants him to _do it already_ and stop making her wait.

It’s probably her own fault, really. The way she’d taken ages to let him in, and then when he’d given her Liam’s ring, she’d probably looked about ready to run straight across the town line and never look back.

But she’s ready now.

She wants to be married to Killian Jones. She knows, now, that the feeling she’d had when she watched her brother get married has a name. It’s called _jealousy_, and she’s ready to stop feeling it. She wants to be married, too, not on the outside looking in on a happy couple with rings and on their way to starting a family.

Emma has thought about this a lot, and she’s decided that the best way to tell Killian that she’s ready is to show him. He’s given her a sentimental ring, bought her a freaking _boat_. He’s waited for her at every step of their relationship. So it’s time for Emma to pull off some big grand gesture or make a romantic speech. Or something.

The problem is that Killian seems to have an endless well of sentimental items and stories to give as romantic gifts, and Emma has none. 

Until the house goes up for sale.

The house that she and David grew up in has changed a lot over the past fifteen years. The couple that bought it after their parents died apparently almost tore it down entirely, but decided on a simpler remodel. A paint job, a new fence, and a wraparound porch are the most obvious changes that Emma’s noticed over the years, but she has no idea what it looks like inside. She’s walking past it, as she does on her morning walks with Rascal, and she sees the For Sale sign out front, along with a small “OPEN HOUSE TODAY!” sign beside it.

_It won’t hurt to look_, Emma tells herself, so she texts David that she’ll be late to work -- or later than usual, really.

The inside is different. The shape is the same, all of the walls and doors exactly where she remembers them. But the colors are all off. The walls were all pale yellows and blues, with white trim, but now everything is a stale gray. Where the floorboards had been faded with time, now they’re stark black.

_We’ll fix it up_, Emma thinks. And then she stops the self-guided tour and freezes for a moment. She waits for the lead ball in her stomach to form, or for the stutter of her heartbeat that accompanies frightening thoughts about the future. But none of it comes.

“Excuse me,” she calls when she finds the realtor. He’s from a company called _Ozman Realty_ from the next town over, so she doesn’t recognize him. “What’s the asking price on this house?”

“Two-hundred-thousand,” the man tells her. He smiles, but it’s hard and somehow almost… slimey. Emma doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t really have a choice in who’s selling the home she wants to buy. “I should tell you, we’ve already had an offer today, and the sign only went up this morning.”

“Dammit, David,” Emma grumbles “One moment, please.” She pulls her phone out and angrily dials her brother.

“Are you even going to bother coming in today?” he teases her.

“Are you trying to buy the old house out from under me?” She has no time for the teasing. She’s _doing this_, dammit.

“Wait, what?” David pauses. “Mom and Dad’s house is up for sale?”

“Yes, David! Keep up!” Emma yells into the phone. “Are you telling me you didn’t put this bid on it?”

“No, Emma, I had no idea.” He sounds sincere.

“Well… do you… I mean are you going to bid on it? Now that you know?” Emma runs a hand through her hair, finally letting her nerves catch up to her.

“No, Mary Margaret and I are uh… we’re building our own house, actually. We bought some property on the edge of town. We were hoping to keep it a surprise until, you know, there’s actually a house there.” David stops talking and Emma can picture him leaning forward on his desk, brows creasing together. “Are _you_ going to buy the house, Emma?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” She bites her lip. “Or at least I’m going to try! Someone’s already put a bid on it, so I’ve gotta go.”

“You can use the inheritance.” David blurts out before she can hang up. “I used some of it to buy the property, but the rest is yours.”

When the Nolan twins had turned 18, they’d been shocked to learn that their parents had had a large amount of money set aside for them. They’d lived modestly, taken few family trips, so their parents must have spent all that time saving up without their children's knowledge. Emma had wanted to take a vacation immediately, somewhere warm and tropical and distinctly _far away_ from Storybrooke just for a week, maybe two. But David had insisted that they save it.

_“Mom and Dad would want us to use it for our futures, Emma, don’t you think?”_

Reluctantly, Emma had agreed. But what was more _‘for our future_’ than this house?

Still, she felt… wrong using so much of it.

“That’s _our_ money, David. Not mine alone. How much did you use?” It’s way too early for this conversation -- Emma has only had one cup of coffee, courtesy of Killian. It’s not enough.

“I used fifty-thousand. There’s still a couple hundred thousand left. Seriously, Emma. Use it. I want you to. And if we need more down the line, we’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll think about it. See you soon.”

Emma wanders through the house, looking for the realtor again.

“I’ve got the full amount in my bank account. I’ll pay it up front. I want this house.”

She knows it’s not a good technique. You’re supposed to low-ball or pretend you’re not as interested as you are. But truthfully, Emma doesn’t care. She wants this fucking house.

The realtor looks thrown off by her forwardness, but he puts on his fake smile quickly. 

“I’ll have to contact the buyer from this morning and give them a chance to counter,” he tells her.

_Seriously_?

“Yeah, sure, fine.”

He steps out of the room to make the call and Emma wanders through the living room, pointing out memories to Rascal.

“There was a dent in that wall from when David and I got into a wrestling match once. His head hit right below that window. He needed stitches.” Rascal sniffs the part of the wall she’s pointing to. “And over here--”

“Miss, uh, I didn’t catch your name,” the realtor calls.

“Emma No-- Emma Swan,” she tells him. Storybrooke is a small town, and while most of its inhabitants know her mother’s maiden name, it won’t be their first thought if word gets out that there’s a bid on the house. She just doesn’t want this to get back to Killian.

“Well, Miss Swan, the other bidder has backed down. We’ll just need you to get the money and sign some paperwork, and the house is yours. You skipped quite a few steps by having the money up front,” he jokes. “Why don’t we meet at the seafood restaurant I saw by the docks at 7 tonight and make everything official?”

“Why would we meet at a restaurant?” Emma asks suspiciously. 

“Oh well… I was hoping we could…,” he stammers out.

“I don’t even know your name. And you’re asking me on a date?” She crosses her arms and arches an eyebrow. Rascal comes up beside her, sensing the tension.

The man, undeterred, simply holds out a hand.

“Walsh Ozman, of Ozman Realty,” he’s grinning, as if expecting Emma to be impressed.

“Emma Swan, sheriff and home buyer. As in, customer. As in, inappropriate to ask out.” She takes his hand and shakes it firmly, hammering her point home: I’m in charge, not you. For good measure, Rascal growls and stares at the realtor, unblinking.

Walsh clears his throat and takes a step back, eyeing both Emma and Rascal warily.

“Here’s my card. You can come by my office this evening.”

“Thanks.”

*****

Emma’s practically vibrating with excitement for the rest of the day. Creepy realtor aside, she’s bought her old house. For herself. For herself and Killian.

If this doesn’t show him she’s ready to move forward, nothing will.

When she gets home that night, brand new house keys in hand, Killian’s camped out in front of the TV holding a beer. It’s not unlike him to have a drink to unwind after work, but the fact that it’s a beer instead of a nice glass of rum makes Emma think that he’s been stewing on something all day, and he doesn’t want his anger to get the best of him. And drunk Killian is a bit more emotional than the sober version.

“Hey, babe,” Emma calls from the doorway. She begins the process of untying and removing her work shoes in favor of putting on her more comfortable sneakers. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” he answers, not even _trying_ to convince her that it’s true. “Yours?” She hears his footsteps coming towards her.

“It was great, actually. You okay? You look…” Emma can’t quite put her finger on how he looks. Disappointed? Angry? Tired? A combination?

“Aye, I’m fine, love. I just… had a bit of a disappointment today.” He steps towards her, pulling her body flush against his. “I’m glad you’re home.” 

She kisses him slowly, just for a moment or two, before pulling back. He looks down at her curiously.

“I wanna show you something,” she whispers. “Put your shoes on.”

“It’s nearly eight, Swan.” He seems to realize what an old man he sounds like, because he shakes his head. “I was just hoping we could stay in tonight.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Implicitly,” he answers automatically.

“Then put on your shoes.” She punctuates the sentence with a quick kiss on his cheek, scruff scratching at her lips.

She’s not sure how they figured out the logistics of getting into a car with two humans and two dogs and not a bit of thought. She opens the driver’s side door and both Rascal and Procella scramble in and hop in the back seat, lying more on top of each other than next to each other. They’ve done it since the first time they got into the same car, back when Emma and David had gotten the call about loose dogs at the park. It strikes Emma how long ago that was, how much things have changed, and her excitement is renewed.

Killian doesn’t complain on the drive over, despite his initial hesitation. Emma can tell he’s had a rough day, though she’s not sure why and she knows she should have asked. But… this is important and huge and hopefully it’ll make whatever it is that happened not even matter anymore.

She bites her lip as the niggling little voice in her head, the one that’s been quiet since the moment she kissed Killian’s cheek in the park on one of their first lunch dates, suddenly starts screaming inside of her head.

_What if he thinks I’m crazy? What if he doesn’t want to move into the house? What if he isn’t ready? What if he’s _not _planning to propose, and I’ve done this huge gesture and he doesn’t get it? What if he wants to keep things the way they are? Or what if he takes one look at the huge house -- clearly meant for a _family_ \-- and runs straight out of town? What if it’s too much? What if--_

“Swan, where are we going?” Killian’s voice jolts her back to reality. He’s quiet in the darkness, a softness to his voice that she can’t quite figure out.

“I bought something I want to show you.”

“Emma, did you--”

“We’re almost there,” she says, and she feels Killian staring at her. Her voice cracks at the end, and her knuckles are white on the steering wheel. _What have I done?_

If he leaves, she doesn’t know what she’ll do.

She pulls up to the curb across the street and climbs out without looking at him.

Before she even reaches the gate, he’s laughing. She can hear him start to chuckle, and then it grows into a full-on belly laugh.

_Oh God, he thinks I’m crazy. Why did I--_

“Swan, you bloody brilliant woman!” He’s right behind her now, grabbing her around the waist. 

“You don’t even… what?” Emma is so very confused.

“You’re the buyer? I should have known.”

And then the pieces click into place.

“Were _you_ the first bidder?” She turns around in his arms. He’s smiling so wide it nearly reaches both ears, and finally that loud voice in her head quiets down again. She smacks his chest once for good measure. “I was so angry!”

“How did you pay the whole thing up front?” He’s still laughing as he reaches up to brush a loose strand of hair away from her face. 

“Inheritance,” Emma says simply. “Why were you trying to buy my house, Killan?”

“For you, of course.” His smile changes then, and his face turns serious. “I work with the man who lived here, Kris. He and his wife are adventuring around the country or something. They’ve been talking about it for weeks. So I knew the house was going up.” Killian shrugs. “I wanted to surprise you, but it seems you got me first.”

“They moved out last week, before it even went up,” Emma tells him, and he’s already nodding because he already knows. “So, we can go in. If you want.”

He smiles again, and she wonders briefly how she could have ever doubted him. Because _of course_ he doesn’t think she’s crazy. _Of course_ their minds were in the exact same place.

_Soulmates_, she thinks to herself. 

They step inside the house, and Emma flips the lightswitch on. It’s still empty, of course, and for a moment, the space feels cavernous and huge. But then Rascal and Procella run out in front of her and start sniffing every corner, every inch of the baseboards. And it’s strange that something so simple eases Emma’s mind, but it does.

“I’m glad you brought me here, Swan,” Killian whispers from behind her. “I had big plans for this house, and I thought they’d all been dashed.” He kisses the skin just underneath her ear. “But now, hope is renewed.”

“Big plans?” Emma asks.

“Oh, aye. In fact, now seems as good a time as any, don’t you think?”

He moves out from behind her and she feels an immediate sense of loss when the warmth is gone. But then he’s in front of her, that same nervous look on his face that he’d had the first time he asked her to lunch.

Emma _loves_ being right.

He gets down on one knee, and in a move that’s so natural that it seems rehearsed, Rascal and Procella come up on either side of him and sit patiently. There are six eyes staring at Emma and watching her start to cry.

“I feel like we’ve done a lot of things backwards, Swan. We met before I even knew I had a soulmate. I thought I’d be alone forever, adrift at sea without anyone for company. But then you and Rascal came along, and you brought me Procella. And then, by some miracle, you let me in. And you gave me something I never thought I would have: true love. And now, Emma Nolan, I have to ask you a very important question.” He pauses, tears threatening to fall from his eyes as well. “Will you marry me?”

He’s barely gotten the question out before she’s whispering _yes_. And then screaming it.

“Yes! Killian, yes.” And then they’re kissing, in the living room of their house, and it is, without a doubt, perfect.


End file.
